I woke up one Saturday morning in winter about 30 years ago with raging toothache. It was shutting one eye it was so violent. Actually I'd been awake nearly all night so was like a zombie and had been on the paracetamol throughout. I rang the dentist, knew the emergency number was on their recorded answer.
Got that, didn't recognise the code but rang it, got the dentist in question's wife. Yes yes, get here as soon as you can. Where are you? (I was in Kiddermister) They were the other side of Ludlow, 35 miles away, plus the network of lanes to then get chez dentist.
Husband at work; sister out; friend ditto. So I got in my car and drove there myself. With a box of tissues on the passenger seat cos by now I was crying with pain. I negotiate the jams through Bewdley and on I go. I'd just got onto the start of Clee Hill (open moorland, cattle grids, free range sheep) when the snow started so the rest of the drive was through a snowstorm. All really great and designed to cheer me up.
I get there. go down the drive, out the car and gingerly walk to the door, shoes not designed for snow, he greets me, we go into his surgery, I tell him all about it, open my mouth and Nada. The pain had completely gone just like that. He could find absolutely zip wrong with me, though he poked prodded and blew freezing air into every nook and cranny.
I have never felt so a) completely stupid and b) totally infuriated with my stupid body before or since.
You never know; perhaps you'll wake up tomorrow and be as lucky as me? But there MUST be an emergency dentist so just in case you better get an appointment asap !